


Composed

by tomsfronttooth



Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: 80's Music, Blow Jobs, Doggy Style, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Los Angeles, Missionary Position, Musicians, Oral Sex, Sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28157973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomsfronttooth/pseuds/tomsfronttooth
Summary: Laurel Mason is a composer living in Los Angeles. She’s had a tough year, having lost her mother to cancer. She doesn’t have any other family except for her friend Nora, who plays in a local LA rock band. One day, when Laurel is at Paramount Studios working on the score to an upcoming film, she attracts the attention of actor Tom Hiddleston. Sparks fly, but is Laurel strong enough to let down her guard and let him in?
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 43





	1. 99 Luftballoons

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually an old work that I forgot about, but that I really fell in love with - I'm hoping to keep it going, but I have so many going right now, we'll see! I hope you enjoy!

_ “You and I in a little toy shop/Buy a bag of balloons with the money we've got/Set them free at the break of dawn/'Til one by one they were gone...”  _

I groan and roll over in my bed, my hand fumbling zombie-like out of the covers, towards the nightstand where my “99 Luftballoons” alarm is going off on my phone. 

_ “Back at base bugs in the software/Flash the message "something's out there!"/Floating in the summer sky/Ninety-nine red balloons go by…” _

“Shut up, Nena,” I mutter, my fingers finally reaching my phone as I sit up, swiping the song silent. I sigh happily at the silence and look down at the end of my bed, where my English Corgi is laying, his head up and alert now because he knows it’s food and bathroom time for him.

“Yeah I know what you want, Chancho,” I mutter, nodding my head knowingly at him. He cocks his head at me in interest.

My phone buzzes and I look down to see my regular morning text message from my friend Nora. I had moved to Los Angeles about five years ago from Santa Barbara to pursue my music composing career. I didn’t really know anyone in the area and on a whim, decided to go to 80’s night at a local bar, where Nora was playing with her new-wave tribute band, Liquid Latex. I thought she was incredible, and after the show we started chatting about music and realized how much we had in common, and also realized we lived about four blocks away from each other. Since then, we have been best friends and she’s been like the sister I never had, and, well, the sibling I never had.

I rub my eyes and look down at her text. 

**ENOUGH DILLY DALLY, MISS THANG - I DON’T CARE HOW MIND-BLOWING THE SEX WAS, TIME TO KICK THAT GORGEOUS SCREENWRITER OUT OF YOUR BED AND MEET ME FOR COFFEE.**

I roll my eyes and text her back.

**HATE TO DISAPPOINT YOU, BUT THE ONLY THING IN MY BED THIS MORNING IS CHANCHO.**

Five seconds later:

**WHAT!? HE WAS HOT AND INTO YOU! WHY DID YOU NOT DO THE HORIZONTAL MAMBO? DID HE HAVE A THIRD NIPPLE? VESTIGIAL TAIL? I NEED DETAILS IMMEDIATELY.**

I chuckled to myself and texted her back:

**DETAILS WILL BE FORTHCOMING, BUT ONLY OVER COFFEE IN, SAY...30 MINUTES?**

My phone buzzed back immediately.

**DEAL. SEE YOU IN 30, BOO.**

I swung my legs out of bed, stretching and moving towards the window to open the curtains. The early LA light poured into my bedroom, and the sun already felt warm against my face. I love my little house. It’s nothing special, just a small bungalow style home, but it is warm and charming and even has a tiny backyard big enough for Chancho to run around in. Plus, it was walking distance to the Santa Monica beach, and yet still felt like you were in a cozy little neighborhood. 

Chancho jumped out of bed and was close on my heels as I made my way to the kitchen and opened up the sliding glass door to the backyard so he could do his business while I showered. I hopped into the white, subway-tiled shower, turning on the water full blast. The warm jets of water loosened up my muscles and I slowly started to feel myself come to life a bit. The last few months had been the hardest of my life, and only now I was starting to feel some kind of normalcy to life return. In less than a year, my mother had been diagnosed with stage 4 bladder cancer and passed away, leaving me absolutely devastated. My father, who I wasn’t as close to after their divorce, had died a few years back, with another new wife at his side. With no brothers or sisters or any real other family to speak of, I was suddenly by myself. Thank God for Nora, who was by my side every step of the way. 

I dried myself off quickly, rubbing my favorite vanilla-sandalwood lotion on my skin and blowing out my thick, dark locks so they tumbled loosely down past my shoulders. I pulled on some black skinny jeans and a fitted, black and white striped sailor-style shirt that bared the tops of my pale shoulders. I definitely did not fit the LA, California-girl look. I was on the shorter and curvier side, plus with my dark hair, round, deep-set gray eyes, and ivory skin, I looked more like I had stepped out of an old-timey Victorian painting rather than a LA hipster Instagram account . I made my way back to the kitchen and let Chancho back in, who was now huffing excitedly and running around my legs. 

“Okay, okay, love - food is a’coming,” I said, scooping vaguely meaty-smelling pellets into Chancho’s dish. He hardly waited for my hand to move out of the way before he started in on them, crunching away happily. I grabbed my black leather messenger bag, my music notebook and keys and gave Chancho a quick rub on the head and headed out to meet up with Nora.

Our favorite coffee shop, Punky Brew-sters, happened to be perfectly situated between Nora’s condo and my house in Santa Monica. It was a small mom and pop place and was warm and inviting, so it became our official “unofficial” meet-up spot. I pushed open the front door and immediately spotted Nora, as her full sleeve of tattoos down both arms and bob of spiral lavender curls made her stand out even in LA. We couldn’t look more opposite from each other. Nora was model-thin, tall and usually a natural blonde, when her hair wasn’t dyed some out-there hue from the color spectrum. I, on the other hand, was on the shorter side, all booty and boobs, but I had been complemented more than once on my delicate arms and legs as well as my pale skin (a rarity in Los Angeles).

She was sitting at a small table with her guitar case sitting by her side (like always). She immediately spotted me.

“Girl, you better tell me you at least let him suck your toes last night!” she practically yelled, standing up and grinning at me, so that at least half the patrons of the shop turned around and stared at us. 

“Oh my God, could you say that any louder?” I growled at her, feeling my face instantly flush as I pulled out the chair across from her, sitting down quickly as to not attract any additional attention. As if that was possible at this point.

“Yes, I could,” she said simply, sitting back, a smirk on her face. 

A tall, very tattooed man with a bushy black beard and glasses walks over to our table and I’m slightly worried for a second he’s going to kick us out for being too loud.

“Hi ladies, can I take your order?” he says, smiling pleasantly at us.

I quickly order an almond milk cappuccino and Nora orders a matcha latte before leaning her elbows on the table and briskly waving her fingers towards herself in an authoritative manner. “Alright girl, spill it.”

I sigh deeply and sit back in my chair, crossing my legs under the table. “What’s there to spill?” I said lamely, shrugging my shoulders. “He bought me a drink, talked about himself and his latest screenplay for the rest of the night without asking me a single thing about myself, and when he walked me out to my Uber, proceeded to try and check my tonsils with his tongue.”

Nora’s deep purple lipsticked mouth dropped open. “Get out, he did not!”

I nodded, raising an eyebrow dryly as the waiter came back with our beverages. 

Nora took a sip of her drink. “Damn, and he was so hot too - why is it all the hot guys are total douchebags?”

I took a long pull of my own drink, thankful for the sweet, nutty bitterness as it coursed down my throat. “I don’t know but they are,” I said matter-of-factly. “Well, that just hit the nail on the coffin for me - no more ‘industry’ guys. They are too far up their own asses for me.”

Nora sat back and ran a hand through her lavender curls. “Well, if you don’t want an industry guy, what kind of guy do you want?”

I sat for a minute with the question, tapping my finger on the edge of the porcelain coffee cup. 

“Honestly?” I finally said. “Someone like Mr. Potato Head.”

Nora let out a barking laugh, her long silver lightning bolt earring swinging back and forth as she fought to catch her breath.

“Mr. Potato Head?! Oh my God, why him?”

I chuckled. “Well, it makes sense to me,” I said. “He wears his emotions on his sleeve - “

“- Literally.” finished Nora, grinning in amusement.

“Precisely,” I said. “He’s also adaptable and flexible…” 

Nora laughed. “Damn girl, I was skeptical at first but I think you’re onto something with this Mr. Potato Head.”

I took a sip of my coffee, setting it back down with a long sigh. “I don’t know Nora - there’s still a part of me that’s wondering if I’m even ready to get back into dating. Ever since mom’s been gone, my life has just been all about her - taking care of her estate, all the medical bills, selling her car, her house…”

“I thought you had a buyer for her house,” Nora said suddenly, her eyebrows furrowed.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “Yeah, there’s a couple from New York that are interested in it but I don’t know,” I said, softly. 

Nora reached across the table, grabbing my hand. “I know these past few months have been hard on you, sweetie,” she said. “Your mom was an incredible lady and we all miss her. But, first and foremost, she would want you to be happy and to find someone that makes you happy.”

I could feel tears beginning to prick their way into my eyes. “I know you’re right,” I said, giving her hand a squeeze before she let go.

“All I’m saying is keep your options open - just because one guy turns out to be a total loser, doesn’t mean they all are,” Nora said.

“I know you’re right,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “Think I just need to get out there more, I’ve just been working so much lately.”

“You’re still coming to our Halloween gig at Blue Door in a few weeks, right?” asked Nora.

“Yeah, of course,” I said.

“Well, I’m sure there will be plenty of guys there,” she said. “Just show up as a slutty witch and you’ll be beating them away with a broomstick.”

I laughed and looked down at my phone. It was quarter to nine.

“Shit, I gotta go,” I said to her, laying down my money for the coffee and standing up. “I’m recording at Paramount Studios today for that new Henry Cavill thriller.”

Nora’s eyes got big. “Oooh...will he be there? He is so damn sexy.”

I laughed, throwing my bag over my shoulder. “Doubtful,” I said. “The actors are never there when we’re just recording the soundtrack.”

“Well, on the off chance that he does show up, can you tell him I would gladly bear his very muscular, mustachioed babies?”   
  


I grabbed my notebook, pushing my hair behind my ears as I laughed. “You got it,” I said. “Later boo.”

“Later.”


	2. Dream a Little Dream of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the "meet-cute" for these two commence!

A few hours later, the recording studio at Paramount had emptied out. We were able to complete a few tracks with some minor adjustments to the score by me. Though I usually will compose the foundation of a piece at home on my professional keyboard, I always allow for adjustments once we have the musicians in session. The large wood-paneled room was now dimly lit, the instruments used for the day now resting, inert and silent, in their respective stands or cases. I still sat at the large Steinway piano, scribbling occasionally in my notebook. I rolled my head and shoulders slowly, feeling the dull ache that comes from playing all day. 

I sat up, and started playing a piece I was working on for myself. My fingers moved confidently over the keys, as I started to lose myself in the melody. It was slow and on the melancholy side, and I could feel my grief start to bubble to the surface as I played, closing my eyes against the tears that I couldn’t seem to fight away.

I finished the final note, my hands coming to rest as put my head back with a sigh. A sudden, soft clapping broke me out of my trance, and I jumped slightly at the sound.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I looked over by the door and there stood a very tall man, his frame seemingly taking up the entire doorway, though he wasn’t overtly large at first glance. 

“Oh no, please it’s okay, I just didn’t think anyone was here,” I said, still slightly breathless and a little embarrassed that I wasn’t alone.

He moved closer and I was able to get a better look at him. He somehow seemed even taller close up, his legs, which were very long, moved with a confident grace. He was wearing a white v-neck shirt under a soft navy cardigan, and casual, charcoal pants. The entire outfit didn’t scream expensive, except for the shoes, which were a rich, supple brown leather. They looked Italian and custom-made. Black-frame glasses rested on a perfect patrician nose, and speaking of perfect, his cheekbones looked as though they were cut from some Roman god and had the perfect amount of stubble on them. His hair was a reddish-blonde, cut close on the sides and back, but longer on top, with a thick mess of curls just barely held at bay with some product. My hand twitched involuntarily, and I was suddenly hit with the urge to run my hands through it. But it was his eyes that made my heart start to race. They weren’t just blue. They were more than blue. They were the Blue Man Group eating blueberries while watching Blues Clues blue. They were the ocean water by my childhood home, clear and sparkling, dancing against the shoreline. They were warm and soulful, even behind the rims of his glasses and I suddenly felt a little dizzy. 

He came up to the piano and rested an elbow on it, crossing one of legs over the other. “I’m terribly sorry I startled you, but I heard you playing as I was walking out in the hall and I couldn’t help listening - you play beautifully.” 

It wasn’t until I heard the accent up close that I suddenly realized who I was talking to. He didn’t have the long black wig nor the helmet with the horns, but it was definitely Tom Hiddleston. 

Living in LA, you get used to the occasional celebrity sighting, especially when you work in the movie industry, and I had met my share in the past, but never one that I was a true fan of. I suddenly was hit with a nervous energy and started fiddling with my shirt and hair as he looked down at me, a small, genuine smile on his face.

“Oh well thank you, I was just messing around with something I’m working on.”

“Are you a songwriter?” he asked, seeming interested.

“Yes - composer actually,” I said, shifting a little on the bench. “I compose scores for movie and television soundtracks.”

“That’s fantastic,” he said, his eyes dancing in excitement. “I just love music - especially movie scores. To be able to capture the essence of a story just by the right tone, the right notes, the right tempo…I mean - I’m in awe of that kind of talent.” 

I could feel myself blush slightly as he continued to look at me. It wasn’t even as though he was looking at me in an aggressive or creepy way, but somehow more like he was taking me in, like I was someone he was interested in figuring out.

“May I?” he asked suddenly, gesturing to the empty space on the bench beside me. 

“Uh, sure,” I sputtered, not really understanding why he wanted to sit right next to me with all the other chairs in the room. He came around and sat, his shoulder lightly brushing mine. I caught wind of his scent - spicy, woodsy, and clean - like fresh sheets I just wanted to wrap myself in and inhale.

“How long have you been a composer?” he asked, turning to look at me, his large hands resting in his lap. He had beautiful hands.

“Um, professionally about six years,” I said, feeling my hands break out in a cold sweat just sitting so close to him. “But I’ve been writing music since I was a kid. My mom taught me.”

He smiled. It was a smile that seemed to take up his entire face, exposing two perfect rows of white teeth. The corner of his eyes crinkled up as he did and _oh mama, did someone in the studio turn the thermostat up to 103_?

“That’s lovely - are you still close with your mom?” he asked.

I looked down and bit my bottom lip. “She - umm - she passed away a few months ago,” I said quietly. 

Tom immediately turned to face me, his brow furrowed in concern. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry ummm...oh goodness I haven’t even learnt your name yet, love.”

“Laurel,” I said.

“Laurel,” he repeated back, touching my arm gently. “Well, I am so sorry for your loss Laurel, and that is an absolutely beautiful name. I’m Tom.” 

He stuck out his hand to me and I shook it, smiling softly. His hand was strong and warm, and seemed to swallow my own. “Yes, I know.”

He chuckled ruefully, nodding slowly as he slowly let go of my hand. “Ahh, yes. That seems to happen to me more and more lately - people know who I am before I know who they are.”

I looked down, biting my lower lip. 

“Oh no, please it’s okay,” he said hurriedly, turning red in embarrassment. “Wow, I’m just making a mess of everything aren’t I? I’m usually much smoother and less immediately offensive than this. I blame being next to a beautiful and talented woman for the cause of my verbal diarrhea.”

I blushed slightly, laughing and I saw the relief wash over his face.

“Can we start over? I would love to start again, Laurel,” he said, his impossibly crystal blue eyes searching mine.

I smiled at him and chuckled. “Of course we can. I’m Laurel Mason,” I said holding my hand out to him again.

“Tom Hiddleston - it’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Mason,” he said, his voice warm and velvety as he took my hand. I felt a tingle run up my arm and straight to my stomach, before I took my hand away.

Tom sat back a little and smiled. “So, is this piece you’re working on for a movie?”

“The one I was playing, no - it’s just something I’m working on for myself.”

“Are your pieces all instrumental or do you also write lyrics for them?” he asked, looking at me in interest.

I pushed a thick section of my hair over my shoulder, and noticed Tom’s eyes widen a little as more of my bare skin hiding beneath it was revealed. 

“I do write lyrics and sing a bit, but I think I have more talent as a composer and musician than a singer,” I said. 

Tom scrunched his face up at me. “Well, I highly doubt that - I bet you have a lovely voice. Will you sing me something?” he asked, giving me a small smile that gave me butterflies.

I shifted nervously, looking away from him. “Oh, I don’t know….” I mumbled.

Tom turned to me, putting his huge hands together as if he was about to pray - his face contorting into a picture of absolute desperation. “Oh please, lovely Laurel - pretty, pretty, please with cherries, chocolate cake, and a puppy on top? I’ve just spent the last four hours doing boring ADR voice work for my next movie and it would make my day to hear you sing.”

I laughed, blushing slightly. I pulled my posture up and held my fingers over the keys. “Okay, okay, i give - what do you want me to play?”

Tom pumped his fist in the air in victory. “Yes! Anything - anything that you want to play,” he said, his eyes twinkling. He looked like a little kid when he smiled - it took over his entire face, making little crinkles pop out around his eyes. I couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Okay, anything I want…” I said, thinking for a minute. “Well, I guess I’ll play a song that was one of my mom’s favorites - I learned it as a kid.”

Tom nodded, giving me a warm smile. “That would be lovely - I’d be honored.”

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and started to play.

_ Stars shining bright above you _ _   
_ _ Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you" _ _   
_ _ Birds singing in the sycamore trees _ _   
_ _ Dream a little dream of me _

  
_ Say nighty-night and kiss me _ _   
_ _ Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me _ _   
_ _ While I'm alone and blue as can be _ _   
_ _ Dream a little dream of me _

I could feel myself transported back to my mom’s house all those years ago, sitting with her at her Baldwin upright piano in the living room, patiently teaching me this song as we sang together. As I played now, my hands and heart seemed to instinctively remember every note, every verse, and I surprised myself that I could remember all of it, even all these years later, and for a minute, I could feel her with me.

_ Sweet dreams, till sunbeams find you _ _   
_ _ Gotta keep dreaming leave all worries behind you _ _   
_ _ But in your dreams whatever they be _ _   
_ _ You gotta make me a promise, promise to me _ _   
_ _ You'll dream, dream a little of me _

I finished the final notes, my eyes still closed. I finally opened them, feeling a burning tear slip down my cheek as I faced Tom. His face was serious, his eyes shimmering with emotion, and without hesitation, he reached out to me, wiping the tear away softly with the knuckle of his index finger. He reached down between us and took my hands into his, bringing both of them up to his lips and pressing a firm but soft kiss to them, before releasing. I noticed a small constellation of freckles on the side of his neck and had to stop myself from wanting to trace it with my fingers.

“I love being right,” he beamed. “Your voice is incredible, Laurel. That was absolutely beautiful. Thank you.”

I smiled, feeling an embarrassed blush creep up my cheeks.

Tom’s face quickly changed as if he had just remembered something. He looked at his watch and frowned, looking at back at me and leaning in. “I have to go - I have a meeting downtown, but I would really like to see you again, Laurel.” His eyes searched mine hopefully.

I cleared my throat nervously and tucked a stray curl behind my ear, feeling Tom’s eyes taking in that small action as if it was everything. Was he seriously asking me out? He was a freaking movie star who could basically have any woman he wanted - why was he asking me out?

“This has been amazing meeting you and hanging out Tom, but I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said, regretfully.

He blinked in surprise. “Oh,” he said, his brows furrowed in confusion. “May I ask why?”

I sighed, a pang of guilt hitting me as I looked into that sweet, handsome face. _Am I crazy? I have a gorgeous movie star asking me out and I’m saying no?_

“It’s not you personally, Tom,” I said, swallowing hard. “I’ve just had a lot of bad luck recently dating guys in the movie industry and being a very famous actor you are kinda at the top of that food chain.”

Tom pressed his lips together and made a little clucking sound with his tongue. “Ah,” he said, nodding knowingly. 

I reached out and touched his forearm, trying in some desperate way to soften my words. “It really doesn’t have to do with you Tom - I just don’t know if I’m ready to date right now anyway,” I said. “My life is kinda chaotic right now.”

He squinted at me in faux suspicion and gave a little half grin, before standing up from the bench. “It’s okay, I understand,” he said sweetly. He held his hand out and for a minute I wondered if he wanted me to take it.

“Give me your phone,” he said instead.

I made a face, cocking my head. “What?”

He raised his eyebrows playfully. “Your cell phone, you silly sausage - hand it over.” he said, now motioning with his outstretched hand. 

I got up slowly, looking at him like he was a mental patient and took my cell phone out of my back pocket, putting it into his hand.

“ThankyouveryMUCH” he said, with a flourish on the ‘much’, swiping at the screen with intent. 

  
“What are you doing?” I laughed, slightly nervous.  _ Please don’t go into my picture gallery _ , I silently pleaded. There was definitely some stuff in there I would be mortified if he saw. Like, I could be identified at the morgue-level personal stuff.

“I am putting my phone number into your contacts,” he said matter-of-factly, typing away at the screen, the glow illuminating his eyes so that they were almost white. Once he was done, he turned the screen towards me. He had put his contact name in my phone as Mr. Verbal Diarrhea. I couldn’t help but laugh. 

“There,” he said, smiling, his eyes twinkling in mischief. “Now you have my number and you can give me a call...you know, once things are a little less chaotic for you.”

I chuckled awkwardly, my cheeks blooming pink as I slipped the phone back in my pocket. Suddenly Tom had closed the gap between us, and I felt a rush of heat rip through me. He was so close, And so tall. And he was looking down at me with those intense, deliciously blue eyes. I must have looked like a deer in headlights because he chuckled softly and bent down, pressing a kiss to my cheek. It felt like fire, and I instinctively raised my hand to it, to check that it wasn’t burning. 

“It was lovely to meet you, Laurel,” he said. “Hope to talk to you again soon.”

“You too, Mr. Verbal Diarrhea” I said with a chuckle, and he let out a big belly laugh as he turned, walking out of the studio. And yes, you better believe I watched that perfect ass as it walked away.


	3. Who Can it Be Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel performs at a charity gala and runs into a familiar face.

A few weeks later, and I still hadn’t called Tom. Though I had looked at the number in my phone about a million times, I couldn’t bring myself to hit that green button. I told myself that it couldn’t possibly work between us - he was way too famous and I was...not.

“Dude, how do you score Tom Hiddleston’s cell phone number and not call him?!” Nora said for the upteenth time as she watched me try on dresses for a benefit I was performing at tonight. It was an organization that works to help disadvantaged children get instruments they need to pursue their musical aspirations, a cause very near and dear to my heart, so when one of the directors reached out to me to perform alongside one of the kids the program helped to benefit, I said yes right away. 

I was zipping myself into one of Nora’s dresses she brought over, a blue cocktail dress that I realized, once it was on, was almost completely see-through. 

“How would a relationship with him possibly work?” I said, trying to peel the blue dress off as Nora lounged on my bed, scratching Chancho’s ears as he slept blissfully. “He’s a freaking movie star - that is way out of my comfort zone.”

Nora propped her head up on one arm, rolling her eyes at me. “Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” she said pointedly. “You need a little more risk in your life.”

I groaned at her as I fished an emerald green, crushed velvet dress out of my closet. I had bought it a little while back, but had yet to actually wear it. “That’s easy for you to say, Ms. Skydives Out of a Plane While Knitting Naked,” I shot back.

Nora shrugged. “Hey, at least I try new things,” she said. “You USED to be like that, until...well, recently.”

I took a deep breath in and looked at her. I knew what she was saying. Ever since mom died, I couldn’t deny that I had changed. I mean, a few years ago, I had moved to a huge city, made a career for myself, found friends - and it was all because I was willing to take risks and try something different. My mom had always encouraged that. But lately, I felt like I had just retreated into myself.

“I know,” I sighed, pulling on the green dress and a pair of black, satin heels. I examined myself, turning in the mirror. The dress had a modest v-neck, and was long-sleeved, which was perfect for the chilly late summer night, falling to the floor, but splitting high on the right side for a little bit of glam. It was sexy, showing off all of my curves, but was tasteful enough for the subject matter of the evening.

Nora sat up on the bed, tucking her long legs underneath her. “Oooh, damn girl, that’s it - you look hot!” 

*****

An hour later, I pulled up in my Uber in front of the Ace Hotel Theater, adjusting my gold, dangling earrings that had black tassels at the ends, and making sure to grab my matching onyx clutch before I stepped out.

I made my way into the theater, which was a landmark in Los Angeles. The lobby alone was breathtaking, with gorgeous golden gothic details from floor to ceiling, and always reminded me of a sexy, Victorian church, if such a thing ever existed. 

Attendees were milling around with cocktails and wine glasses, and I surveyed the crowd nervously as I checked my coat. I had played in front of large audiences before but it had been a few years since I had done it. All I really cared about was being solid for Tara, who was one of the charity’s teen benefactors and an extremely talented violinist. I knew this night would mean future opportunities for Tara, and I wanted to do everything I could to make that happen for her. 

Through the crowd I spotted William Tiersen, the program director that had approached me about performing. He spotted me too, and waved, breaking free of the group of men he had been talking to and walking over to me.

“Laurel!” he said warmly, giving me a brief hug. “So excited you and Tara are performing tonight - we are already getting so many donations and the show hasn’t even started yet!” 

“That’s wonderful!” I said, beaming. “Well, I’m excited too - I can’t wait to play with Tara.”

William looked quickly over his shoulder and then back at me, moving to usher me forward. “Before you head backstage to get ready, I have some people I’d like for you to meet,” he said, conspiratorially. “They are some of our more ‘heavy-hitters’ on the donation front, just so you know.”

I nodded in understanding as we made our way over the three men William had been talking to when I saw him. Two of the men were facing me, but the third one had his back to me, and for some reason, felt oddly familiar. As I got closer, my heart started racing. 

_Oh God, I know the back of that neck_ , I thought. _And I definitely know that stance. And that butt_. I felt my hands break into a sweat as we got closer, my eyes locking onto that familiar cluster of freckles on the side of his neck. 

“Gentleman, I’d like you to meet Laurel Mason, who will be performing tonight with one of our very talented kids,” said William.

I somehow managed to look up and smile at Tom, who’s eyes widened in brief surprise and then broke out in a brilliant smile. He’s wearing an expensive-looking black suit so perfectly tailored, it looks like he came out of the womb wearing it. It suddenly felt like there are about a hundred cotton balls inside my mouth.

“Ms. Mason, how lovely to see you again,” he says, grinning wickedly at me as he pulled me into a quick, but warm half hug, whispering into my neck, “you look stunning, by the way,” before pulling away. His scent catches me and it’s like trees and spices and very sexy, bad decisions.

William looks at us in confusion. “You two know each other?”

I suddenly find my voice, blurting out, “Um yes, we met briefly a few weeks ago at the Paramount lot.”

William looked at Tom with interest. “Oh, are you working on another film?”

Tom nodded, drawing himself up to his full height. G _od, why did he have to be so tall and gorgeous? He looks like a goddamn Disney prince, has a voice that’s pure sex, and probably farts raspberry-scented rainbows_.

“Yes, we have already wrapped, but I was there doing some post-production stuff and happened to hear Ms. Mason playing in the studio there.” He looked at me, taking a sip of his drink that looked like some sort of scotch or bourbon, his eyes looking at me playfully over the rim.

William turned to me. “Ah, are you composing for another movie?”

I cleared my throat nervously, still not believing that Tom was here of all places in the world. “Yes, it should be coming out next month, so I’ve been busy in the studio every day working on it.”

“Yes, it must be very chaotic right now,” Tom said, his eyes twinkling mischievously, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

I pressed my lips together to suppress a laugh, nodding knowingly. _Okay, point to you Mr. Hiddleston._

“Yes, it is rather chaotic,” I said, in a slightly clipped tone, chin raised, my eyes meeting his challengingly. “But thankfully I haven’t reverted to any verbal diarrhea in front of strangers despite the long hours.” _And that’s game, set, match, Mr. Hiddleston._

Tom brought his hand up to his face, his index finger trying to hide the huge smile that was breaking out across his face, which was rapidly turning red. William and the other two men looked between us like we had lobsters crawling out of our ears.

William sputtered a bit, then plastered on a genial smile. “Well, Laurel, we should really get you backstage so that you can get ready for your performance.”

I nodded, turning to the other two men, giving them an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to be properly introduced, but it was very nice to meet you and I hope you enjoy the show.”

I turned to Tom, my eyes flitting up to meet his. “Mr. Hiddleston, it was nice to see you again,” I said. He gave me a look so intense, it nearly set my knickers ablaze. 

“Ms. Mason,” he said, his voice almost a purr, as he tipped his glass to me slightly.

William escorted me away towards the stage doors and I could feel Tom’s eyes on me the entire way.

  
  


*******

The performance went better than I could have hoped. Tara was incredible and I was just thankful I didn’t miss a note, even when I spotted Tom sitting in the front row halfway through the song, giving me a warm smile when I met his eyes. Though, I definitely started sweating after that.

After the performance, the program’s board of directors hosted a small reception at the hotel’s rooftop bar. I took the elevator up to the top floor, adjusting my dress and fluffing my hair in the mirrors that surrounded it’s interior. _Wait, why am I primping? It’s not like Tom will be there. He’s a big movie star - he’s probably got some super exclusive club to go to with some model-thin leggy blonde. But he COULD be there. Oh shit, do I_ **_want_ ** _him to be there?_

The elevator doors opened out to the large rooftop bar, which looked like a garden out of a fairy tale. Soft, twinkle lights hung from the ceilings and small, antique chairs and sofas were hidden among giant potted trees and trellis’s of climbing flowers. A large wood bar swept along one of the walls, with a host of well-dressed people clustered around it, their faces lit by the warm flicker of tea lights scattered along its surface.

I saw an opening present itself when a woman left the bar, and I quickly made my way over, squeezing myself between the crowd and resting an elbow up on the mahogany surface. The bartenders were shooting back and forth between eager customers and the cash register. After a minute or two, I finally caught the attention of one of them, who came over. 

  
“What’ll you have?” the bartender said, rather breathlessly.

“Old Fashioned, please,” I said quickly.

“Make that two,” said a voice behind me. A very familiar _British_ voice. 

_He IS here_ , I thought, my stomach flipping as I turned around to see Tom looming close to me, a little smile on his face, his deeply blue eyes looking down into mine. 

I smiled back at him. “Well, we just keep running into each other don’t we?”

He chuckled, “Yes, I guess we do,” he said playfully. “Though you can pretty much always find me at a bar at any kind of event - that or the dessert table.”

I laughed. “Me too - I can’t resist a good macaron, or a good bourbon.”

The bartender came back with our drinks, setting them down as Tom reached over me, handing him two twenties.

“These are on me,” he winked, as the bartender came back with his change. Tom promptly put the extra bills in the tip jar that sat near the garnish holder. 

“Cheers,” he said, clinking his glass with mine.

*****

A little while later, Tom and I were ensconced in a velvet banquette in a secluded corner, giggling together as we compared our Spotify playlists. I was feeling pretty buzzed after my two Old Fashioneds. Tom was deep into his third one without a scratch. I had to admit, the man could hold his drink. We realized we both had a thing for eighties music, Danny Elfman scores, and Chopin, though I did tease him mercilessly when I saw he had “What’s New, Pussycat?” in his favorites playlist.

“That goes with you to the grave,” he said trying to keep his face serious as he pointed a finger at me. 

I was nearly doubled over in laughter, trying to collect myself. 

“Pinky swear, Mason,” Tom growled, trying to use my last name to show he was serious, but I could see the merriment behind his eyes. 

“Okay, okay,” I said, trying to make my face serious and failing miserably. “Total serious now, and pinky swearing,” I said holding my pinky out as Tom wrapped it with his. 

“There,” he said, with a punctuating nod. “Pinky sworn. That’s legally binding, by the way.”

“Just as long as I don’t have to sign a non-disclosure agreement,” I laughed.

“Oh didn’t you know - pinky swears are the new NDA’s in Hollywood,” he said, giving me a knowing grin, bumping his knee with mine. I could feel everything slow down around us as he left his knee against mine, his elbows resting on the top of his legs, hands clasped in front of him. I stared at his profile, that perfect jawline that looked as though it had been carved out of Carrara marble with just the right amount of stubble on it. I fought the urge to reach out and touch it, to run my fingers along that exquisite line and down the long column of his throat, to trace that sweet constellation of freckles. 

I felt myself lean over a little, bumping his shoulder and leaving it there. He looked up at me, his cobalt eyes looking down at me slightly lidded and heavy, running over me. 

“That is an incredible dress, Laurel,” he says, almost in a whisper, leaning in close to my ear. I look down and realize the slit on the side of my dress has opened, completely exposing my left thigh. I quickly try to close it a little, blushing furiously.

Tom gave a nervous little half cough, half chuckle and looked down at his hands again. 

“So, Mason,” he said rubbing his hands together, and taking a deep breath, drawing himself up a bit. “We have already established that you aren’t interested in guys in my ‘industry’,” he said, putting up his fingers into air quotes. “So, what kind of guy are you interested in?”

I laughed. I was getting that question a lot lately. “Mr. Potato Head,” I said, looking at him with a smile.

Tom busted out laughing, rocking forward and then back, his head thrown back in hysterics until he was finally able to face me, his hypnotic azure eyes looking at me incredulously. “Mr. Potato Head?!”

I chuckled, throwing my hands up. “I know it’s an unconventional choice, what can I say?”

Tom’s laughter died down, and he looked at me again, a small warm smile on his face, his eyes searching mine. He leaned a little closer to me, and I could smell his scent, warm and intoxicating. I wanted to wrap myself in it - in him.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before, Laurel.” His voice was low, and I felt him take my hand in his. I looked down. His hands were beautiful and surprisingly expressive, with long, elegant fingers and veins that ran along them in smooth, graceful paths. My own pale hand looked even smaller in their grasp. He was looking down at me, his eyes slightly darkened now and heavy-lidded. He was too close. I started to feel a little dizzy. 

“It’s late, I need to go,” I whispered, surprised at the words that escaped my mouth. 

Tom blinked, but quickly let go of my hand. “Oh, of course,” he said, clearing his throat a little. “May I give you a lift home?”

I stood, smoothing out my dress and feeling more than a little flustered. “Oh no, that’s not necessary - I’ll just take an Uber.”

“Well, at least let me walk you out,” he said, standing up.

I smiled. “Okay, thanks.”

He motioned for me to go ahead as he quickly came up beside me, his hand firmly but lightly resting on my lower back as he helped navigate me through the crowd. Though he was slim, I was surprised at how intimidating a figure Tom cut as we moved through the throng of partygoers, not just because of his height but because of the subtle strength he projected. He wasn’t jacked with obvious, bulging muscles, but he was definitely athletic and I could feel the strong wall of his chest against my shoulder and arm as we made our way down to the lobby.

After I retrieved my jacket from the coat check, I suddenly felt Tom pull me into a dark alcove off to the side of the building entrance, pressing me up against his chest. I couldn’t make out most of his face in the darkness, except for a slash of warm light from the lobby illuminating his eyes. They looked like they wanted to devour me.

“Laurel,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I’m going to kiss you now because I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first met you, and I think you are perhaps the sexiest, funniest, sweetest, most talented woman that I’ve ever met.”

I was pretty sure I looked as though I had just been told that groundhogs had just colonized life on Mars. His words instantly made my pulse race and my lady bits tingle in anticipation. I gulped and said the only thing that came to my mind.

“Okay.”

He instantly pulled me in to him, our lips crashing together like we had been starved of each other for years. I went up on my toes, my arms went around his neck, trying to draw him to me as close as possible, my breasts pressing against the strong barrier of his chest, as he bent down, enveloping me in his impossibly long arms. I couldn’t think straight - all I could hear was the thunder of blood rushing through my ears and how he tasted. Which was good. Really damn good. Like expensive bourbon and oranges. His hands dove into my hair, tugging slightly and I practically moaned into his mouth. _Oh God, this man knows how to kiss_. Tom’s tongue played along the seam of my lips, and I quickly gave it access to my mouth, my own tongue responding to his. He slid one of his hands down to my lower back, just at the swell of my bottom, pulling me even closer as his other hand went down to my face, cupping it like it was something fragile, something he was desperately afraid of breaking. I pulled his lower lip into my mouth, sucking softly as my hands ran up the solid muscle of his wide back and I heard him groan slightly.

“Darling, you keep doing that and I won’t be able to stop myself,” he said chuckling softly next to my mouth. 

I laughed, dropping my forehead onto his shoulder and looking back up at him, his arms wrapped around me, his face looking down at me, a little smile playing around his lips.

“So, can I take you out NOW, Mason?” he said, raising his eyebrows in mock exasperation, which turned into a grin as he tucked a thick lock of my hair behind my ear. 

“Yes, Hiddleston you can take me out” I said, grabbing his hand and leading him to the door. “But I’m telling you now that I’m only using you for your kissing skills.”

“Ehehehe, I think I can live with that,” he said, helping me into my jacket as my Uber pulled up. He quickly pulled me in for a soft kiss, and then brushed his cheek against mine as he whispered, “goodnight, beautiful,” before placing one more kiss next to my earlobe. 

“Goodnight,” I whispered back as he closed the door and I felt the car pull out into the night to take me home, his last kiss lingering the whole way there.


	4. Somebody's Watching Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Laurel have trouble coordinating a date, and Laurel bumps into someone unexpected during her run.

For the next two weeks, Tom and I call and text each other, but our schedules haven’t opened up enough for us to schedule an actual date. I mind it less than I normally would, only because Tom’s texting game is hilariously and adorably on point:

**10:36 AM:  
JUST THOUGHT I’D WARN YOU THAT THE TEA AT SONY IS TERRIBLE, SO AVOID AT ALL COSTS. DO YOU DRINK TEA OR COFFEE? I FEEL LIKE YOU’RE MORE A COFFEE WOMAN, BUT I HAVE BEEN WRONG BEFORE. **

**2:45PM:  
LISTENING TO JEFF BUCKLEY’S “LIVE AT SINE-E” ALBUM ON A BREAK. IT MAKES ME THINK OF YOU.**

**6:13PM:  
LOOK AT THIS WONDERFUL DOG I RAN INTO ON MY RUN!** (then he sends me a selfie of him, hair sweaty and disheveled, grinning like a madman next to a smiling golden retriever).

“Dude, he is smitten,” Nora said, handing me back my phone, as we met over early Saturday lattes at Punky Brew-sters. She was heading out to San Francisco with her band to play a wedding, so we decided to meet up before my morning run down at Santa Monica Beach before she left. I almost didn’t tell her about me and Tom’s accidental meetup and subsequent make-out session at the benefit, but then decided to confide in her. I mean, she is my best friend who has been my rock at the worst of times. She also knows the whole celebrity lifestyle first-hand, as she used to date a pretty famous indie-rock guitarist, so I knew she’d be discreet.

I blushed and adjusted my ponytail, sliding my phone back into the armband I use for it whenever I run. I was wearing my faded, black “Treble Maker” tank top (a gift from a favorite director I worked with), and my cropped black and gray skin tight running pants that actually managed to effectively contain my rather generous booty.

“I don’t know about that,” I scoffed, embarrassed. “But he is pretty damn sweet.”

The truth was, I was the one that was smitten. Ever since that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about him - his smile, especially the way his eyes would crinkle when it was a particularly big one, his hands, how they felt roaming my body, caressing my face, or his laugh whenever something amused him. I found myself wanting to make him laugh all the time. Though I definitely liked him and couldn’t stop fantasizing about how he would look tangled up in my bed sheets, a nagging part of me couldn’t help but be anxious about the whole situation. Tom is an A-list celebrity with throngs of screaming female admirers and gossip media constantly digging for any whiff of who he might be dating at the time. Were we heading there? Would I someday step outside my house to find crowds of paparazzi shouting at me for a picture? 

I tried to push those thoughts away for the time being. I like Tom a lot, but we aren’t anything right now and we may never be. Right now, I just decided the best thing to do was just take it day by day.

Nora threw a long, tan arm over the back of her chair. “Of course he’s sweet, he’s British. He’s got those upper crust English manners. And he’s got sisters, so you know he knows how to treat a woman.”

“Well, that’s true,” I laughed. “But oh, you should hear him talk about his family. He loves them so much, especially his mom and sisters.”

“What about his dad?”   
  


I chewed on my bottom lip and took a sip of my latte. “He doesn’t talk about him very much,” I said. “I get the sense that things are strained a little there.”

Nora nodded. “Yeah, everyone has Daddy issues, no matter how famous you are.”

“It sucks we haven’t been able to actually go out yet, but he’s been so busy with work and so have I,” I said, fiddling with my coffee spoon.

Nora suddenly sat up, her eyes wide and bright, the motion making her curls, now colored electric-blue, bounce.

“You should invite him to our Halloween show Friday night!” she said excitedly.

“Oh, Nora I don’t know,” I said reluctantly. “It’s so public and I don’t even know if he even celebrates Halloween.”   
  


  
She waved a heavily- tattooed arm at me dismissively. “Oh, pshh,” she said. “It’s perfect - it’s going to be mostly invited guests and friends of the band - plus, it’s in a hole-in-the-wall club, not exactly the place paparazzi expect Tom Hiddleston to be at on a Friday night in LA.”

I raised an eyebrow. She had a point. Plus, it was a costume party so no one would likely even recognize him.

“Okay, I’ll invite him,” I said, as Nora clapped her hands together like a little manic pixie hamster. 

A little while later, I said goodbye to Nora and headed out to my usual running route towards the beach. The day was beautiful, bright and sunny, but a nice cool breeze that seemed to herald that fall was truly here. My limbs loosened up and I started to hit my stride where my body fell into it’s natural pace and rhythm. It was still early, so the usual throngs of Saturday tourists weren’t yet out in full force, but there were still a good number of morning runners, cyclists, and beach-goers out as I got closer to the pier. 

My phone suddenly started to ring and I slowed down to a walk as I took it out from my arm band. It was Tom and he was Skype-ing me. His face showed up on the screen. He was outside somewhere and had a black baseball cap on and was making faces at me. I laughed and hit the accept button.

“Hey, beautiful, what are you doing?” he asked, slightly breathless. _God, his voice makes my thighs clench every time._

“I’m just on a run at the beach,” I said, looking at myself on the smaller screen in the corner, trying to fix the wisps and fly-aways of my hair. My face looked flushed and I was panting slightly.

Tom raised an eyebrow and gave me an evil grin. “Hmmm, are you sure about that love? You look more like you’ve been partaking in more...indoor sports...ehehehe.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Haha, I have not - see???” I turned the camera around so he could see the pier. 

He gave a slightly suspicious grin, but then gave a little nod. “Okay, I believe you - however, I’d be remiss if I didn’t say I have some rather vivid visuals running through my head now.”

I smiled, biting my lip, slightly embarrassed but definitely flattered. 

Tom’s face was suddenly serious and his head moved like he was looking at something behind me. “Umm, Laurel, I don’t wish to alarm you but there is a rather sinister-looking man that looks like he’s following you.” 

My heart clenched in my chest. “Oh my God, really?” I started to turn, but Tom cut me off.

“No, don’t let him know you’ve seen him,” he said quickly, his voice urgent.

“What does he look like?” I whispered, my eyes darting back and forth to see if I could catch him out of the corner of my eyes without turning.

Tom’s eyes narrowed and he got closer to the screen, his voice lowering. “Well, he’s tall and seems to have a very nefarious, untrustworthy face, a penchant for sweets and for lovely dark-haired girls who wear very tight black and gray running pants.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. 

“Tooomm….” I said slowly, as I saw a hint of a smile play across his lips. “Where exactly are you?”

“Ehehehe,” he giggled. “Turn around.” The screen went blank.

I turned around and saw Tom walking towards me, a huge grin on his face. He was wearing a black Legendary Pictures shirt and black running shorts. His phone was in his hand. 

“I’m such a prankster!” he cackled, his arms immediately reaching out and enveloping me in the most amazing hug. I realized Tom hugs were not like anyone else’s. He hugs with his whole self, caging me like some kind of strong but cuddly tree. I instantly feel so safe and welcome with him.

“You’re right - completely nefarious, untrustworthy face,” I laughed, punching him lightly in the side as he embraced me. 

“Ehehe, told you - you look gorgeous,” he whispered in my ear, his hands lightly grazing the sides of my bum as he let me go. Cheeky bugger. Literally. I looked around quickly to see if anyone had noticed us, but everyone seemed to be going about their own business. Even if they did recognize Tom, I noticed that most people in LA don’t really pay attention to celebrities out and about. It’s just normal for them to see someone like Cindy Crawford or David Spade walking by them.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Same as you - out for a run before I have to head to a meeting with my agent,” he said, taking off his baseball cap briefly and running a hand through his thick cinnamon-kissed locks. I almost let out an audible whimper of disappointment when he immediately put his cap back on. 

Tom turned and spotted an _aqua fresca_ cart nearby. “Buy you a drink and have a catch-up, love?” he asked motioning to an empty bench off to the side of the jogging path. I nodded.

He put his hand at the small of my back, and I noticed his face turned serious as he looked both ways for joggers and cyclists, not encouraging me to move across the now-busy path until he felt it was safe. I immediately felt something warm bloom in the pit of my stomach at the small, seemingly protective action.

We made our way over to the stand and Tom looked over all the flavor selections, raising his index finger to his mouth in deliberation.

“As a pale, somewhat sheltered British man, I confess I’ve never tried _aqua fresca_ before,” he said leaning over to my ear. “What flavor do you recommend?”   
  


  
I giggled, taking in his long, defined legs and arms, which were looking like they had actually gotten a little sun in the past few days.

“Hmmm….” I murmured, exaggerating my features and pursing my lips like I was deep in thought. “Definitely the watermelon.”

Tom gave a sharp nod and clapped his hands together. “Watermelon it is! Two, please.”

We took our drinks and sat on a bench. The day was beautiful - sunny and clear, the Pacific Ocean sparkling before us. Tom settled next to me with one ankle resting on the top of his knee, his arm resting on the back of the bench behind me. He took a long sip of his drink, his eyes widening as he did. 

“Oh, that IS good,” he said, growling rapturously. My heart fluttered at the sound.

“It’s my favorite.”

“What else is your favorite?” he asked, resting his cup on the side of his bent knee and looking at me intently. I will say this for Tom - when he gives you his attention, he gives it a hundred percent. You feel listened to and acknowledged, even if what you’re saying is that you prefer gelato to ice cream.

“What do you mean?” I said, giving a small smile.

“Well, I know that watermelon _aqua fresca_ is your favorite of all the _aqua frescas_ ,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “But what are your other favorites? Female singer? Candy? Holiday?”

I laughed, rubbing my neck absentmindedly. I noticed Tom watching as I did it. “Let’s see....I guess that would be Ann Wilson of Heart, red Skittles, and Halloween.”

“Red Skittles, huh?” Tom laughed. “That is specific.”

“I’m not candy prejudiced by any means, but of all the Skittles in the world, the reds are my absolute favorites.”

Tom nodded, taking another sip. “Well, that is very good to know. And Halloween is your favorite holiday?”

I nodded. “Yep, ever since I was a little girl. My mom made all my Halloween costumes,” I said. “I think I went as Wonder Woman at least three years in a row.”

“Wonder Women, eh? Excellent choice,” Tom said, wiggling his eyebrows at me. “You don’t happen to have a Wonder Woman costume now do you?” 

I blushed. “No, why? You hoping I’ll lasso you with my lariat of truth?”

Tom let out a barking laugh. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it. So, what are you dressing as this year?”

I crossed my legs so that I faced him more. “Well, still not totally sure, but thinking of Alice from Alice in Wonderland.”

“Lewis Carroll - excellent!” Tom exclaimed. “I love ‘Alice in Wonderland.’”

“Me too,” I said, trying to work myself up to ask Tom to Nora’s Halloween show. I was surprisingly nervous, twisting my hands in my lap. Tom looked down and I saw him make an amused little face.

“Something on your mind, love?” he asked, his eyes the color of the ocean in front of us, his face warm and open.  _ God, I still can’t believe this gorgeous man kissed me _ . 

I bit back a smile, anxiously looking down at the ground to find my courage. “Well, my friend Nora’s band is playing at a little dive bar Halloween night downtown and...well, um...that is, if you’re free….umm...wouldyouliketogowithme?” I blurted.

Tom blinked, a huge smile spreading across his face, making those incredible eyes crinkle. “Of course, love,” he said, reaching out and taking my hand in his. “I’d love to go - I’ve never been to a Halloween party!”

“Really?” I asked, the relief washing over me.

Tom shifted his legs, stretching them out in front of him. I could see the muscles shifting and flexing underneath the golden skin and I tried not to gape. 

“Yeah, we don’t really celebrate Halloween in the UK, so I’ve never done the whole costume dress up thing - well, except for movies.”

“Well, I’d say wear your Loki suit except that might be a little too on the nose.”

Tom let out a barking laugh. “I think you’re right,” he said. “So what should I wear?”

“Anything you want,” I said, watching his hand playing with my fingers, his long, elegant fingers twining through mine and caressing the thin skin of my knuckles. 

He looked up at me, a small, secret smile on his lips that set my stomach fluttering. 

“How much longer are you here in LA?” I suddenly asked. It was the one question I didn’t want to ask him, but suddenly I just blurted it out.

He pressed his lips together thoughtfully and exhaled deeply. “About another two weeks,” he said matter-of-factly. “Then I go back to London for a play.”

I felt my stomach drop slightly. “A play? That’s exciting. Which one?”

He took a long last sip of his drink, his shirt rising slightly. I could make out his defined peachy-colored stomach, dappled with just enough light golden brown hair to keep me in wet dreams material for the next century.  _ Oof _ .

“It’s a Harold Pinter play called ‘Betrayal’ and I’m actually doing it at the Harold Pinter Theatre in London.”

“That’s amazing, Tom!” I said, genuinely impressed. “I know that theater - it’s one of my favorites in London.”

Tom looked pleasantly surprised. “You’ve been to London?”

“Yeah, it was a few years ago. I lived there for a few months composing music for a BBC series,” I said.

Tom shook his head, his eyes widening in amazement. “That’s fantastic, Laurel,” he said, his voice warm and slightly awed. “I’m not surprised though - you are incredibly talented.”

I smiled back, blushing slightly.

“Do you ever think about going back, like on a long-term basis?” Tom asked, his eyes suddenly thoughtful and serious.

“I honestly haven’t really thought about it,” I said slowly. “I guess it would depend on the circumstances. I don’t know. I guess I feel like I couldn’t make any big life moves until I sell my mom’s house.”

Tom looked down for a minute, nodding, his finger running back and forth along his bottom lip in thought. He looked back up at me.

“Have you put it on the market yet?” he asked.

I squirmed a little. “Yeah, and I’ve had an offer, and it’s a fair one, but I don’t know…” I trailed off.

Tom gave me a small smile, seeming to sense my discomfort with the subject. He squeezed my hand. “It needs to be right for you, love - you’ll get it sold eventually.”

I nodded at him, giving him a slightly awkward smile back. Tom suddenly looked at his phone. 

  
“Oh blast, I’m going to be late for my meeting,” he said, starting up suddenly. He turned around to me as I stood up. 

“I’m so sorry love, I have to run - pick you up Friday night?” he asked, hopefully, running his hand slowly up and down my arm, sending off sparks to all my nerve endings. 

I bit my lower lip and smiled. “Yes.”

He leaned down to my face, his cheek grazing mine briefly. I could feel the soft scratch of his stubble as he pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. He smelled like woodsy spice and sweet post-run sweat. My eyes closed briefly in bliss. Only Tom could make sweat smell sexy. 

“Until Friday, beautiful.” he said, starting to walk backwards still smiling at me, until he finally turned around, breaking into a jog, eventually disappearing into the ebb and flow of the crowd.


	5. Dead Man's Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Halloween, and Laurel and Tom officially have their first date to go see Nora's band play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's going to start heating up kids - enjoy! ;)

For the next week, Tom and I texted back and forth, coordinating for our Friday night date. I tried to get Tom to give me at least a hint of what his Halloween costume was going to be, but he adamantly refused, saying he wanted it to be a surprise.

On Halloween, I was frantically getting ready at my house before Tom was supposed to come pick me up - Chancho was watching me from his little plaid bed on the floor, head turning back and forth like a linesman at a tennis match as he watched me run around my bedroom. 

My Alice in Wonderland costume was pretty good, if I said so myself. I had gone to a great costume shop on Melrose Ave and found the dress. It ran a little on the smaller side, so my boobs and my butt were definitely more emphasized, but at least it didn’t veer into slutty territory. A sleek, long, blonde wig, black headband, white knee socks, and black patent Mary Janes completed the look. I even had a little mini White Rabbit that peeked out of my white smock pocket.

The doorbell rang just as I was getting ready to put my shoes on and my heart jumped into my throat.  _ Oh my God, he’s here. Tom-freaking-Hiddleston just rang my doorbell _ .

I ran to the door, my white knee socks causing me to slide slightly on the tile in the hallway. I opened the door and when I saw Tom, I promptly doubled over in laughter.

He was wearing a full, body-covering, legit Mr. Potato Head costume. 

I couldn’t even catch my breath as tears started forming at the corners of my eyes as I wheezed in laughter. _Best costume ever_.

“Told you I wanted it to be a surprise,” Tom laughed, taking the big frown cutout located around his midsection, flipping it around into a smile, and smacking it back onto the Velcro fastening. That just made me laugh harder.

“Well, it definitely is,” I chuckled, and instinctively went up and planted a kiss on his lips. The potato costume consumed his body from the top of his thighs and up, even going up over his head so that all that showed through was his face. He blinked in surprise by my sudden kiss, blushing slightly and giving a bashful chuckle. 

I looked behind him and noticed a black Town Car idling next to the curb. “Is that yours?” I asked.

Tom tried to turn his head, but when he realized the physical limitations of his costume, he made a sort of a shuffling rotation so that his body faced the curb. I had to stifle a laugh. It was too damn cute. 

“Oh yeah, I hired a car,” Tom said, turning back around to me. “Thought that would make things easier.”

“That’s perfect,” I said. “Would you like to come in for a sec? I still have to get my shoes on.”

“Sure,” said Tom, chuckling awkwardly as he squeezed himself through the front door. I closed it behind him and motioned him into the living room. Chancho came patting out, sniffing at Tom’s feet with interest. 

“Well, hey there love, aren’t you a sweetheart?” Tom said, bending down to let Chancho sniff his hand first and then petting him behind the ears once Chancho started giving him appreciative licks.

I sat down on one of my armchairs, pulling my shoes on. “Oh, that’s Chancho,” I said.

“Chancho, eh?” he said, chuckling. “I have a dog myself - Bobby. My sister’s taking care of him while I’m here.”

I fastened the buckle on my last Mary Jane and stood up in front of Tom. “Okay, all ready - how do I look?”

Tom stood for a minute, looking me up and down. He finally met my eyes, giving me a smoldering look, but I had to bite back a laugh. He was a smoldering potato and it was way too cute to be sexy. Okay, it was still kinda sexy.

“Definitely the hottest Alice I’ve ever seen,” he said smiling.

*****

About 30 minutes later, we pulled up at Blue Door, a funky little dive bar that still had its original blue neon sign outside since it opened back in the seventies. Tom stepped out and reached out his hand to help me out of the car. We can hear the thump of music inside, and as we made our way over to the bouncer, I noticed a nun and a Viking slouched against the building, smoking and chatting away.

We stepp[ed up to the bouncer, an older gentleman with closely shaved silver hair, wearing a black Indian Motorcycle shirt and about thirty prison tattoos. He looked up from his clipboard and opened up his arms to me.

“Hey Laurel, it’s been awhile!”

I chuckled softly, opening my arms and going in for a warm hug, patting him on the back. “Hey Walter, good to see you.”

Walter pulled away, giving a faux scolding look. “You need to come visit us more often, young lady - Max always needs someone to fill in on piano whenever Ronnie bails on him, which is pretty much all the time.”

I laughed, and pulled Tom closer to me. “Walter, this is Tom - Tom, this is Walter, the best bouncer in all of LA.”

Tom quickly stuck out his hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Walter,” he said genuinely.

Walter shook his hand. “Good to meet you too, Tom - that’s a hell of a costume,” he laughed.

Tom chuckled. “Yes, it’s proving to be quite the logistical nightmare.”

Walter nodded to the door. “Nora’s already in there - they should be going on soon.”

“Thanks, Walter,” I said, leading Tom through their bright blue namesake door. 

We walked in, making our way through the costumed throng of party-goers. The long mahogany bar was drenched in moody red and purple lighting, with a good crowd of people around it, ordering and knocking back drinks. The walls were covered in an ancient, gold brocade wallpaper, peppered with fading band flyers. Eighties music was blaring through their sound system, and I could see the small stage set up for Nora’s band. 

Tom leaned down to me. “Do you want a drink?!” he half-yelled, due to the volume of the music.

I looked up at him. “Yeah - Old Fashioned!” I yelled back, giggling. “I’ll go get us a seat!”

I managed to find a little two-person table in a far corner, which was slightly quieter. A minute later, Tom came over with our drinks in hand, setting them down with a smile.

“Boy, you wouldn’t believe how easy it was to get a drink with this costume on,” he grinned, raising his eyebrows. “Especially when they saw how I had to get to my wallet.”

“Well, you’ll have to show me that one later,” I smirked at him.

“You can count on it, blondie,” he said, an evil little grin on his face.

The bar started to fill up quickly, and I was glad Tom and I had our little private corner where we sat close, chatting. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted someone running over, and saw it was Nora, dressed as an eighties-era zombie, complete with rotting flesh makeup and neon leg warmers. 

“Yay! You made it!” she yelled, grabbing me a huge hug just as I barely stood up. Tom stood as well, albeit a bit more awkwardly from the costume.

“Yes we did!” I laughed, hugging her briefly and then pulling away. “Nora, this is Tom.”

When Nora saw Tom’s costume, she doubled over in laughter. “Brilliant! You decided to go as the man of Laurel’s dreams!”

Tom laughed, starting to go in for a handshake, but Nora quickly maneuvered into giving him a quick hug. “Ah, now none of that handshake stuff - I’m a hugger! By the way,  _ Crimson Peak _ is one of my favorite movies!” 

Tom laughed, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “Ehehe, well thank you very much - it’s lovely to meet you Nora. Laurel says nothing but wonderful things about you.”

“Ugh, that accent! I could listen to it all day!” she said, pretending to swoon. “Well, thank you and I have to say that Laurel says nothing but awesome things about you too.”

Now it was my turn to blush. “Ahem,” I said, quickly clearing my throat. “Are you guys going on soon?”

“Yeah, in a minute here,” she said motioning towards the stage. “Are you guys gonna dance?”

Tom’s eyes lit up. “Absolutely!”

I chewed on my lip nervously. “I may need another drink to get me out there.”

Nora huffed. “Oh, you are going out there, missy. I don’t care if we have to drag you - Tom, you better make her dance tonight.”

Tom made a little salute. “You got it, boss.”

“Okay, I gotta go - we’re going on,” Nora said, turning to walk away. “Have fun you guys!”

Tom and I sat back down, and he gave me a pointed, but playful look. “You are dancing with me tonight. You need to blow off some steam.”

I squirmed uncomfortably in my chair. “I know,” I said, giving him a small smile. “I just can’t turn my brain off sometimes.”

Tom reached across the table, taking my hand in his and bringing it up to his lips, kissing it softly. I felt flutters erupt in my stomach. He looked at me deeply with those intense blue eyes.

“It’s Halloween,” he said, matter-of-factly. “That means that tonight, you don’t have to be Laurel if you don’t want to. You don’t have to carry her worries or her fears. Tonight, you can set all that down and be free. With the potato of your dreams,” he added on with a grin.

Something in my chest clenched and released. He was right. I wanted to let all of it go - all of my fear and anxiety and grief that constantly swirled in my head about my mom. At least for tonight.

Nora suddenly bounded on stage with her band in tow and the crowd went crazy. “Happy Halloween monsters!!!!” she yelled into the mic to even more cheers. “Let’s get wiilllldddd!”

The band quickly launched into Siouxsie and the Banshee’s “Cities in Dust,” as the party goers started to flood the dance floor. I quickly knocked back the rest of my drink, setting it down with a resolute thud and grabbing Tom’s hand.

“Let’s dance,” I said, my eyes burning into his, as I went up and planted a firm but sensual kiss on his lips. His eyes burned back and he pulled me out onto the dance floor.

I couldn’t remember when I had more fun. All night, Tom danced and twirled me out on the floor, though by the band’s third song, he had to take off the potato costume because it was too limiting. Once he shucked that foam prison, he really let loose - and so did I. He spun me around, we did some synchronized 80’s moves, and even some horrible poppin-and-lockin that made both of us laugh so hard, we were doubled over. By the end of the night, we were sweaty, disheveled, and both slightly buzzed, but blissfully happy.

Around 1 am, the band was winding down and last call orders were being placed at the bar. As Nora launched into Madonna’s “Crazy For You,” Tom pulled me close against him, my hands coming to rest against his white, v-neck shirt as his arms wrapped around my waist. 

We swayed slowly in time with the music, as Tom tenderly brushed a few sweaty pieces of blonde bang off of my forehead. 

“So, did you have fun going down the rabbit hole with me, Alice?” he smiled, looking down at me, his eyes warm. 

I murmured, nodding in assent - blissed out on endorphins and about three and a half Old Fashioneds. 

“I didn’t know you were such a good dancer,” I said softly, my belly feeling warm and tickly as I felt the hard press of his body against mine.

He laughed softly, and I could feel the rumble of it against my body. “Well, I do try to be a well-rounded potato,” he said.

I giggled, closing my eyes, and moving my arms around his neck, burying my head in the little nook between his shoulders and neck. I opened my eyes, taking in the little cluster of freckles on the side of his throat. Without thinking, I started to trace them leisurely with my finger, and I felt Tom’s hands clench the waist of my dress. 

“These freckles….” I said, dreamily. “They look like a constellation...like the Little Dipper.” 

I didn’t know if it was the cocktails or all the laughing and dancing that night, but suddenly, I had no fear or hesitation. I leaned in and gently started pressing little kisses to them, as I heard a soft groan emit from Tom. His hands moved down, just above the swell of my ass as he moved his thigh between my legs so that my core was pressed against him. This time it was my turn to groan. He knew exactly what he was doing. 

I moved away from his neck and pressed my forehead against his. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed in certainty on mine. His breath was steady but deep and urgent. 

“Come home with me,” I whispered, never feeling so sure of anything in my life.

Tom nodded, a muscle in his jaw twitching slightly. We grabbed his costume and all but ran out of there. 


End file.
